Continue what?…
Song Chan’s mind went blank.
The person pinning her down had already shown with his actions what was about to happen next.
Su Yicen was like a wild beast freed from its chains. His long, hard palm roamed freely over her body, igniting heat throughout her entire frame…
The man on top of her pressed closer and closer, their breaths intertwining…
Song Chan finally realized what he meant by “continue.”
Belated fear surged through her. She pushed against Su Yicen, trying to refuse, but when the words came out, they were nothing but ambiguous gasps.
“No… don’t…”
Her body retreated backward. An uncontrollable sense of weightlessness hit her. Her arm slipped off the sofa and slammed onto the floor, causing sharp pain. Song Chan jolted awake from her dream.
Her back hit the chair behind her, preventing her from tumbling flat on the ground.
She rubbed her head, just starting to calm down, when the scenes from the dream flooded her mind like a tidal wave. Their bodies locked in a passionate kiss were as clear as 4K ultra HD.
She covered her flushed, burning face. Song Chan couldn’t believe she had a wet dream—and with Su Yicen, of all people?…
It had to be Zhou Qining’s dirty talk that filled her head with this junk!
She decisively pinned the blame on her best friend, picked up her water cup, took a sip, and soothed her racing heart.
She unlocked her phone screen. The bright light pierced the darkness, a bit too harsh. Song Chan squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before adjusting to the glare.
A text notification popped up on the screen. She tapped it casually. It was a weather alert.
【Thunderstorm Red Alert: Our city expects strong thunderstorm activity within the next 12 hours. Thunderstorm areas will be accompanied by short-term heavy rain, strong winds, and other extreme weather. Residents, please take precautions…】
She hadn’t finished reading when booming thunder rumbled outside, accompanied by a flash of lightning. Torrential rain poured down, fat raindrops smashing against the window and blurring everything outside.
The sudden thunder made Song Chan flinch. She rubbed her weakened knees, pushed herself up, and turned on the living room chandelier. The light chased away the darkness, giving her a sense of security.
Only when Song Chan stood up did she realize her stomach ached faintly with hunger. Besides that cup of coffee at noon, she hadn’t eaten anything else that could provide energy today.
Outside, the storm whipped the trees back and forth. Half an hour had passed since she placed her food order, but no delivery rider had accepted it.
Song Chan gave up and canceled the order.
Just as she expected, the fridge was barren—no vegetables, no fruit, not even an egg. It was stocked only with neatly arranged bottles of alcohol.
She grumbled, “No wonder he’s a top idol. He buys a fridge that doesn’t plug in, just to store booze.”
Song Chan smiled wryly in resignation. Looking at the variety of bottles, she grabbed one at random.
She was swamped with work most days. In the half year since she and Su Yicen got their marriage certificate, aside from visits to her parents’ house and Grandpa Su’s to handle “official business,” they had never shared a meal at the same table. She usually ate at the company.
But Song Chan never imagined that in this massive villa, there wouldn’t be a single bite of food to be found.
It looked like she was destined to go hungry tonight.
Song Chan rarely drank, but she figured her tolerance was decent. She poured the clear liquid into a glass. The wine wasn’t harsh going down—it had a faint fruity sweetness, with a lingering bitterness on the aftertaste.
The moment she swallowed, a burning sensation flared in her stomach, but the discomfort faded quickly. She had done plenty of stomach-damaging things before. Drinking on an empty stomach wasn’t a big deal to her—after all, besides ibuprofen, the medicine she popped most often was stomach soothers.
She flicked on the TV casually. It seemed to be broadcasting some awards ceremony. After the camera panned over celebrities in glamorous outfits, it settled on a cool, noble face.
It was Su Yicen. His expression was neutral as he nodded toward the camera.
The instant he appeared, applause and screams erupted from the audience, along with neat chants of support slogans. Song Chan, who had wanted to change the channel, had to lower the volume first.
That’s when Song Chan remembered: today was the Golden Flower Award’s Film and Television Awards, and her nominal husband had a film nominated for Best Actor.
After adjusting the volume, she set down the remote. As a fashion magazine editor, she had to pay attention to the stars’ red carpet looks anyway. Even if she skipped it today, she’d have to compile a report when she returned to the office after her break.
It was time to announce the Best Actor winner for the 18th Jinhua Award. There were five nominees on stage, including Su Yicen and four other actors.
The presenter held a script and introduced each nominee. The screen split into five panels below, capturing their reactions. They all wore smiles, but varying degrees of tension were evident—except for one person.
Su Yicen sat with his legs crossed, exuding worldly arrogance and confidence, utterly relaxed.
Perhaps influenced by the atmosphere, and with the presenter dragging out the suspense, Song Chan found herself getting nervous too, unconsciously sweating for Su Yicen.
“The winner of Best Actor at the 18th Jinhua Award is…”
“Su Yicen from When the Wind Stops.”
The TV erupted with even louder, more fervent applause and screams. The enthusiasm at the Film and Television Awards venue peaked, infecting Song Chan in front of the screen. She couldn’t help but clap happily.
By the time Song Chan snapped out of it, Su Yicen was already on stage. He wore a black suit with a white shirt and bow tie at the collar. His chiseled cheeks, high nose bridge, and deep black eyes gave him a cool yet affectionate charm. No wonder he was the famous intense-handsome male god—he captivated countless fans’ hearts at a glance.
Su Yicen stood on stage, holding the trophy as he gave a concise acceptance speech without excess words.
Debuting at 27 and exploding to fame as a top idol heartthrob in four years, he had now claimed two Film Emperor awards. As the heir to Hangbei’s leading enterprise, the Su Corporation Group, he was the true top-tier noble young master—free of scandals, devoted to charity.
In any era, his current status and achievements were beyond what others could hope to touch.
Perhaps because they had spent time together, seeing Su Yicen shining under the spotlight filled Song Chan with an inexplicable pride. He was the man of so many people’s dreams, and she got to see him every day.
But as soon as that pride bubbled up, Song Chan shook her head firmly, mindful of boundaries. She wasn’t Su Yicen’s fan—why would she think like that…
She downed the rest of the wine in her glass in one go. Her head grew heavier and heavier. The alcohol dulled her vision; the person on the screen doubled.
Song Chan realized she was drunk.
Film and Television Awards ended.
Cast and crew members swarmed Su Yicen for autographs and photos.
A deafening thunderclap shook the air, even drowning out the noisy sound system. As Su Yicen finished signing a name—right at the last stroke—his finger twitched uncontrollably. The “jin” in “today” got an extra dot, turning it into “ling.”
Su Yicen frowned slightly and offered to redo it. “Sorry, let me write you a new one.”
The girl waved her hands frantically, her eyes sparkling as she looked at him. “No need, brother! I want this one. A mistaken signature like this is one-of-a-kind limited edition. They’ll be so jealous…”
Thunder kept rumbling into his ears. He didn’t hear a word she said.
Fortunately, Su Yicen’s expression control was impeccable. He didn’t show a flaw, curving his lips into that smile that stole countless girls’ hearts before handing back the photo.
“Glad you like it.”
Envious screams filled the air from the others. Manager Feng Zheng noticed something off with Su Yicen and immediately blocked the approaching crowd, explaining politely.
“Thanks everyone for waiting. We’ll wrap up here for today. Yicen has other engagements next…”
Amid their farewell voices, Su Yicen left the Film and Television Awards backstage under the escort of his assistant and security, exiting through the rear door.
In the car, he stared at the downpour outside, flashes of lightning, and occasional rumbles of thunder. His palms clenched tighter and tighter before he finally pulled out his phone and opened his chat with Song Chan.
【You don’t need to tell me about your schedule. I don’t interfere.】
【Afraid of slipping up】
The previous conversation caught his eye. He withdrew his outstretched finger.
He vaguely remembered that Song Chan was afraid of thunder. Aunt Xu had mentioned it back when they first met as kids.
Song Chan had been 7 then, wearing a blue-and-white school uniform with a neatly tied red scarf at the collar. Her black hair was tied into a little bun that bobbed as she ran over to tease him, like a delicately carved porcelain doll.
He recalled Aunt Xu laughing about her. “Our Chanchan’s such a tomboy. She fears nothing under heaven—except thunderstorms on rainy days. She’d hide under the covers crying for Mommy.”
A bolt of lightning tore through the night, followed by a muffled thunderclap, interrupting Feng Zheng’s casual chat up front.
Feng Zheng: “Damn, what kinda weather is this? Scared the hell outta me…”
Su Yicen rubbed his brow. In that moment of closed eyes, an image of Song Chan surfaced: curled up in a corner, wrapped in a blanket, trembling.
It clashed with her usual strong-woman image, yet felt so real.
Feng Zheng, prattling on up front, noticed his movement and asked, “Yicen, you’re off today. We’re heading to Producer Zhang’s dinner now. You good…?”
Outside the window, rain poured, thunder rolled, and thick clouds pressed down like a heavy quilt, urging him to decide.
Su Yicen cut him off. “Turn around. Back to Hermitage Splendor Residence.”
The sudden change startled Feng Zheng in the front seat.
He knew exactly who Su Yicen was—a man he couldn’t afford to offend. This out-of-nowhere shift left him baffled.
The dinner was pre-arranged, tied to a film gunning for international awards—something Su Yicen cared about deeply. Bailing now put him in a tough spot.
Feng Zheng asked good-naturedly, “What about the dinner with Producer Zhang…?”
Lightning ripped across the sky outside the window, the storm in full view.
Su Yicen paused for two seconds. “Explain it to him. Reschedule.”
Feng Zheng probed, “And tomorrow’s schedule…?”
“Leave earlier. It won’t delay anything.”
The car turned toward Hermitage Splendor Residence.
It was the first time Feng Zheng had seen the career-obsessed Su Yicen like this. He knew about the hidden marriage.
Feng Zheng: “Because of the one at home?”
Su Yicen turned off his phone screen and gazed at the rain-blurred window. His deep eyes held unreadable emotions.
He replied flatly, “Picking up a document.”
Rushing home in a storm for a document? And skipping Producer Zhang’s dinner? Who’d buy that?
Feng Zheng sighed helplessly and urged the driver. “Old Wang, step on it. Don’t make President Su late getting his important document.”
The Golden Flower Award recording site was near Hangbei TV station, not far from Hermitage Splendor Residence. The storm and thunder slowed them down; it took nearly half an hour to arrive.
The villa gate suddenly swung open. A cool gust surged inside, waking Song Chan, who had passed out on the coffee table. In her daze, she opened her eyes and saw the figure at the door.
The top idol Film Emperor from the screen had appeared at their home.
He still wore that black suit and white shirt from TV. In his haste, rain had soaked his hair and clothes. The shirt clung to his body, outlining his muscle lines.
Song Chan rubbed her head, trying to stand, but her body had no strength. She struggled briefly, then gave up and slumped into a comfortable position to lie there.
Drunk to the core, Song Chan’s face glowed red. Her black silk nightgown had slipped off her shoulder, exposing the deep hollow of her collarbone. Her porcelain-white, slender legs curved to one side, like a seductive enchantress.
He eroded her senses step by step as he approached slowly, chipping away at his own rationality.
Su Yicen reached her side. Song Chan was asleep and didn’t notice him. His strong arms gently scooped her into his embrace.
“Been drinking?” he asked softly. The person in his arms remained quiet, unresponsive.
Raindrops condensed in Su Yicen’s hair and dripped onto her lips, wetting her plump ones. The rain-glossed red lips gleamed like glazed porcelain, drawing his gaze.
The coolness on her lips woke Song Chan. She opened her eyes, hazy with drunkenness. Confirming the man before her, she nuzzled uneasily in his arms.
Su Yicen looked down at the person in his embrace. Under her fluttering long lashes, her face burned crimson from the alcohol. Wine-scented air enveloped them, tinting the atmosphere with ambiguity.
His Adam’s apple bobbed. His arms tightened instinctively around her as he carried her back to the bedroom.